


The young and restless

by LovelyLittleGrim



Category: Prodigal Son (TV 2019)
Genre: Banter, Brightmel, Insomnia, JT is tired, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Malcolm is a little shit, Malcolm never stops talking, Post-Coital, Touching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-12
Updated: 2019-11-12
Packaged: 2021-01-29 00:36:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21401248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyLittleGrim/pseuds/LovelyLittleGrim
Summary: After falling into bed together, Malcolm finds he would really like JT to stay. Even if that is a terrible idea on all accounts.
Relationships: Malcolm Bright/JT Tarmel
Comments: 45
Kudos: 241





	The young and restless

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ithinkwehaveanemergency](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithinkwehaveanemergency/gifts).

> For Adri because she's the worst but, simultaneously, the actual best. Thanks for dragging me down into this hell pit with you. I love it.

There’s an ache in his muscles, the kind that only good sex ever really gives him. The kind that he’ll feel for days and think back on, mouth dry and stomach swooping at the memories of a hot mouth and rough hands.

He laughs, low and out of breath as he rolls onto his back, sweaty skin sticking to the cool sheet. His brain feels quiet, almost numb. It usually does after sex, but never for long and Malcolm dreads the moment it decides to turn back on and force him to think about what he’s just done—_who he’s just done._

“That was…” JT starts only to trail off, his breath still coming in heavy puffs as he lays next to Malcolm, their shoulders touching.

“Unexpected?” Malcolm finishes because falling into bed with JT wasn’t something that he had accounted for happening tonight—or any night.

Malcolm Bright is great at profiling people and he’s rarely ever wrong—rarely—but it does happen on occasion. And, well, his profile on JT had been created under the assumption that the man was straight. A very clear error on Malcolm’s part.

JT makes a little noise of agreement and Malcolm jerks his head to the side to see him. “But good, really,_ really_ good actually,” he adds hurriedly.

There’s already a healthy flush to JT’s skin, but Malcolm watches as it grows just a little darker. “It wasn’t bad,” JT says, shoulders rolling in an almost shrug.

Malcolm snorts. “_Wasn’t bad_. You’re kidding, right? Gil is going to take one look at me tomorrow and know I’ve had sex, that’s how good it was.”

JT’s body tenses, a low distressed groan tumbling from his mouth as he throws an arm across his face to hide. “Fucking—I completely forgot about the lieutenant. You’re practically his son and I—”

“Fucked me into the mattress?” Malcolm supplies archly.

Another horrified groan leaves JT. “He’s going to kill me.”

“Hmm.” Malcolm rolls onto his side, propping his head up in one hand to stare down JT. “I think you have Gil confused with my actual father. You know, the serial killer. Easy mistake, though. I see how you got confused.”

JT’s eyes are still covered by his arm, but Malcolm can see the curve of his mouth and how JT is just barely fighting a smile. “You’re the worst, Bright.”

“So, I’ve been told.”

“I’m going to be fired by Gil and then murdered by your actual murderer father.” His voice drops lower. “Why did I sleep with you?”

Malcolm is entirely sure it’s a rhetorical question directed at JT himself. That doesn’t stop him from leaning in close, lips brushing along JT’s ear, and whispering. “Because I have a great ass.”

The snort of laughter that comes from JT should be insulting, but Malcolm finds himself oddly pleased with it instead. “Oh? Are you trying to say I_ don’t_ have a nice ass, detective? Because you seemed to be, you know, _pretty into it _earlier.”

JT’s arm falls away from his face inch by inch, revealing his dark eyes opened wide in the gloomy room.

Malcolm thought he was pleased with the laughter he had drawn from the man but it’s nothing compared to the look of sheer horror that crosses JT’s face the moment the entendre leaves Malcolm’s mouth. He doesn’t know what it is about the guy, but some part of Malcolm really relishes the ability to lodge himself beneath his skin. To poke and prod and withdrawal a plethora of responses. It’s exhilarating. JT never ceases to surprise.

“I think I actually hate you,” JT says, eyes rolling up to the ceiling, or maybe the heavens. Malcolm hasn’t quite pinned whether JT is a religious man or not.

“You don’t,” Malcolm tells him confidently.

Huffing, JT glances over at him and then away again. “Your freaky profiler brain tell you that?”

“No.”

His profiler brain could have told him, but it just wasn’t necessary because, well… JT is still in his bed, subjecting himself willingly to Malcolm’s presence. And, Malcolm can tell that he’s enjoying it, no matter what he says because his body language doesn’t lie. The man is relaxed back amongst the pillows. Perfectly at ease. His mouth twitching upwards every time Malcolm snaps back with a witty retort to one of his own barbs.

“You know what…” Malcolm says slowly, reaching out to poke him in the chest to get his attention. “I think you actually like me.”

There’s an incredulous huff, JT’s eyes wide and dark as he stares back at Malcolm. “And, I think you’re crazy.”

Malcolm nods and lets his fingers linger on JT’s warm skin. “We can both be right,”

JT catches his fingers, but doesn’t pull them away, he just squeezes, once and then releases them. Almost like permission for Malcolm to continue touching, so he does. Fingers trailing soft and slow down JT’s chest and stomach, exploring soft skin smattered with small scars.

_Souvenirs,_ Malcolm thinks_, from JT’s enlisted time_.

“It’s getting late,” JT says, voice almost breathy. “You need sleep, we both do, before going in tomorrow.”

Malcolm’s fingers have reached the end of JT’s stomach and are plucking at the light sheet that’s just barely covering the man’s lower half.

“We should,” he agrees even though his fingers itch to continue their journey down, to draw out sounds and reactions, but he can see his own exhaustion reflected back at him in JT’s eyes. The day was hard and they both know that tomorrow’s will be even harder. They need sleep, even if it is only a handful of hours. “You’re right.”

Reluctantly, Malcolm pulls his hand away, his fingers curling into themselves at the loss of warmth beneath their touch. He pushes himself upright, stretching as he goes, and waits for JT to do the same.

Only, he doesn’t.

Malcolm frowns as he watches the other man make himself more comfortable, nudging at the pillow and settling further down into the bed.

“Oh,” Malcolm’s voice is high. “you’re… _staying_?”

“That a problem?” JT arches a brow, body tensing up as he stares at Malcolm. Rejection almost settling over him like a blanket. “I can leave if you want me to.”

“No, no,” Malcolm says. He brushes a hand through his hair, pushing it back out of his eyes where’s it’s fallen. “It’s not a…” He can’t say it’s not a problem because it is, but despite being tired, he’s not entirely ready to end this night yet or say goodbye to JT. It’s pleasantly surprising how… easy it is. Much less complicated than he had presumed sleeping with a coworker would ever be.

He clears his throat, hand dropping down to play with the sheet, twisting it around and around his fingers until they turn bone white and numb. “I want you to stay.”

When he chances a look back up at JT he can see the furrow of disbelief, but can also see that JT isn’t moving, isn’t reaching for his clothes.

“Okay.” JT clears his throat and reaches out to tug at the sheet tangled around Malcolm’s fingers. It takes him several seconds to unwind it before his hand wraps around Malcolm’s wrist and tugs at him, pulling Malcolm back down onto the bed.

Something eases between them, silence filling in the space. JT closes his eyes, breathing slowing down to something close to restful. He’s not asleep, Malcolm can tell because there’s still a small wrinkle between his brows.

“You have to close your eyes to sleep, Bright.”

“I’ve never slept with anyone before,” he admits, throwing the words out quickly because they need to be said.

JT’s face does something comical. His skin darkening, his eyes snapping open, wide and shocked as he splutters out a mouthful of curses. “You—what—why didn’t you say something? Jesus, did I—”

Malcolm laughs and puts a hand up between them to slow JT down. “Oh, wait, no, no, that’s not… Uh, I’ve had sex before, detective, I can assure you, lots of it, and much rougher than—ahem, anyway, no…that’s not what I meant.”

“What—”

“I’ve never fallen asleep with anyone before.” He gives JT a self-depreciative smile. “I have trouble sleeping, nightmares…yeah, so it’s never been a thing I’ve done. Until now.”

JT stares at him for a long considering moment. “Okay,” he says as he sits up. “I can go.”

“I.. no… that’s not why I told you…” Malcolm frowns. “I want you to stay.”

The look JT gives him is dubious. “You’re sure?”

“Yeah.” Malcolm smiles widely, too wide apparently because JT’s eyes narrow distrustfully. “I’m positive. It’ll be fine.”

~

It’s not completely fine.

No matter how much he had wanted JT to stay he should have had him leave. Malcolm can’t sleep like this. He’s going to hurt himself, or JT and then he won’t forgive himself.

He can’t lay here like any sane person, straight like a wooden plank and just sleep. He needs the cuffs, the space, he needs the emptiness of his apartment to scream and startle no one.

“You’re thinking so hard I can literally hear it, man,” JT grumbles into the pillow, voice muffled and full of sleepy exasperation.

“I’m not,” Malcolm says lightly, fingers tapping at his breastbone in an uneven rhythm. “I’m sleeping… peacefully.”

“Yeah, and I’m Madonna.”

“Wouldn’t that be an interesting sight,” Malcolm murmurs, brows raising in the dark as he stares up at the ceiling. “I’m particularly fond of the cone-shaped brassiere. You’d look lovely Detective Tarmel.”

JT gives an indelicate snort. “Shut up, Bright,” he grunts and then hands are tugging at Malcolm, pulling him close and caging him in against a soft, warm body.

“Are we… cuddling?” Malcolm asks and there’s no hiding the surprised delight in his voice at finding out that JT is a cuddler. The knowledge is added to his mental profile, and as a result, sprouts up several questions that he files away for a later date.

“We’re not cuddling,” comes the quick denial from behind him. “We’re sleeping. So, sleep.” 

“I don’t know, detective.” Malcolm runs his fingers over the hand that’s pressed to his stomach and then up the strong arm around him, “I’m no expert on the matter but…This feels a little more like cuddling, than sleep to me.”

“How would you know? You never sleep.”

Malcolm snorts out a quiet laugh. “I’ve slept once or twice before.”

“You never stop talking, do you?” JT asks, breath ghosting over Malcolm’s neck, hot and wet, just seconds before teeth nip at the soft skin of his nape. It’s not a hard bite, more of a warning than anything, but it makes Malcolm’s hand fall still.

He swallows thickly. “I couldn’t talk with you in my mouth.” Malcolm points out because sometimes he’s a little shit and even he knows that.

There’s a stirring of breath, like the memory excites JT, his voice going low like a rumble when he speaks. “You were still noisy, Bright.”

“Yeah,” Malcolm breathes out as another bite is placed on his shoulder, this one a little harder. “And, you liked it.”

“Maybe.”

Malcolm snorts. “Bullshit.”

Lips sooth over the bitten skin, sleepy slow and warm. “Go to sleep,” JT tells him again, face nudging into the crook of Malcolm’s neck and shoulder. Malcolm can feel him relaxing, body going pliant. He wishes he knew how to do that, but he never quite learned.

He exhales quietly, eyes blinking rapidly in the darkness. He’d read an article last week that said rapid blinking could help induce sleep. He’d never tried it out before, but he’s always more than willing to give anything a chance when it comes to finding slumber. He counts as he goes.

_15…27…36…42…_

The numbers grow higher with each blink, but sleep doesn’t come to him. A huff of frustration leaves him after reaching the hundreds. He stops. Eyes remaining open and numbers puttering to a halt. It was a long shot anyway. He rolls his eyes and wonders if it’s bad etiquette to just… slip out of bed and busy himself with reading, or pacing, or hell, even yoga.

He pushes the thought out of his head. He’s warm and comfortable, and he doesn’t actually want to move. He does want to sleep—or to be more exact, he needs to sleep before his organs find a reason to fuck off and quit on him.

He lays there, eyes lazily taking in his apartment. There’s not as much light as there used to be, the glass panels in his window are still broken and covered with the wooden board. It makes his surroundings darker, almost more threatening. When he was little, he would imagine monsters in the corners, hidden in the darkest shadows, only every monster wore his father’s face—and they still do.

He bites at the inside of his cheek, worrying the skin between his teeth until there’s the faintest taste of copper on his tongue.

Behind him, JT’s breathing is getting slower, closer to sleep, but not quite there.

“Malcolm.”

Malcolm tenses, breath pausing in his lungs. He’s never heard JT say his name before.

“Stop thinking.”

“Can’t.”

“Try. Close your eyes and breathe,” JT murmurs against his skin, his thumb rubbing soothingly other Malcolm's stomach. “You’ll be fine.”

Malcolm exhales shakily, his own hand reaching down to tangle with JT's. 

He wants to say he won’t be fine, he's never fine, but JT’s hold tightens around him, like a soft vice. “I’ll wake you up if you have a nightmare,” JT promises. “It’s okay.”

"Don't blame me if we both wake up bruised and bleeding tomorrow morning," Malcolm says weakly, going for light and joking but missing the mark by a mile. 

"I won't."

And, Malcolm believes him. So, he closes his eyes and tries to focus on something other than his father and his past. Like, the slow pounding of JT’s heart against his back, the secure hold of arms around his torso, the warmth that seeps into his tense muscles….

Nodding, Malcolm lets himself fall into it all. Let's it replace the monsters in the corners and the terror in his bones. He allows himself to drift into an empty darkness.

He sleeps.

And, he doesn’t dream.

**Author's Note:**

> [My Tumblr](https://lovelylittlegrim.tumblr.com)


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